


Scenes From an Occupation

by ingridmatthews



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingridmatthews/pseuds/ingridmatthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cold in this place ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes From an Occupation

The first thing the Cylons do upon arrival is set up a coffee shop.

It's a good place to meet and on occasion, visits can be used as a reward for the more _pliant_ among the humans.

They have to hire humans to run the place. There aren't enough of themselves for such trivial pursuits and besides, idleness is a sin.

Six orders for the table. Two coffees arrive promptly and Five sips, his face wrinkling around the mug's brim.

"Too hot?" she asks, picking up the cup to warm her hands. It's _cold_ in this place.

"There's urine in it," he replies.

Six stares at him a moment, before putting down her cup.

~*~

In Roslin's classroom, a Cylon Administrator sits in the rear, out of sight so not to scare the children.

But children aren't that dumb, Roslin knows, so she stands with her back to the thing, blocking it with her body.

"We are going to discuss God today," Roslin explains patiently. "It's a new lesson plan and we all have to pay attention."

Behind her, the Administrator perks up, rapt.

The children are silent.

"In spite of what we've been taught before, there is only one God," continues Roslin. "Repeat after me. There is only one God."

"There is only one God," the children parrot, but their eyes are trained on Roslin's hands ...

Where ten fingers are raised.

~*~

Appreciation of the arts is something the Cylons never had, but they are willing to learn.

It's pleasant enough and some of the humans are almost inhumanly talented at manipulating their voices and instruments to create songs.

One of them in particular is quite entertaining and a group of Cylons listen, enthralled.

"Down by the river," he sings, sweet notes floating through the frosty air. "Down by the river, the crying birds lie, never to rise up, no, never to rise up no more."

Some days later, in a completely unrelated incident, the six malfunctioning Raiders set down by the water are found to be unrepairable, and the Cylons aren't quite sure why.

~*~

Kara Thrace likes baking. She does it incessantly, humming and mixing dough, seemingly all day long.

She's changed so much, Leoben thinks as he watches her and he wonders if it's for the better.

She smiles sweetly at him as she pulls another batch of rolls from the oven, making basket after basket of them, where they are distributed throughout the tents.

The Cylons are amused to see everyone pocket them instead of eating, day after day. Perhaps the biscuits aren't that good or perhaps the silly creatures think they will be starved.

They never see the bullets that are plucked from their centers and buried beneath the ground, in stockpiles, night after night.

~*~

Two was assigned early on to work with the President and it's been a difficult job, to say the least.

The man has bad habits, such as his inability to listen. So once the problems begin to arise, Two decides he has to be made to listen.

By any means necessary.

"They're getting angry," he says, putting on an appropriately terrified countenance, appealing to Baltar's cowardice.

As usual, Baltar throws up his hands in a wide gesture of helplessness. "What can I do about that?" he protests, but Two notices that his voice is stronger than its been in months.

Determined, almost. Defiant. _Presidential_.

This is odd. Confused, Two feels his own temper dissolve. "You'd better do _something_ about it. Because they are getting very angry."

"To tell you the truth, I haven't noticed." Baltar pierces Two with a gaze that's crystal clear, as if he's looking through a particularly clean pane of glass. "In fact, the only angry person I've seen is you ... Mr. Gaeta."

~*~

 

Comments are welcomed with berets and secret messages.


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